Blades of the Four Origins:
by Shelkesamurai
Summary: Small snippets in the lives of my four characters on Sisters of Elune. Currently writing a book for them, called Blades of the Four.
1. Synithalon Beloved

Finding Strength in Separation

Imladras Solais & Synithalon Karinara

By: Shelkesamurai (Part 1)

Imladras woke silently, silver eyes flashing open to examine his surroundings. He felt the familiar, yet still peculiar sensation of his Fiancé's form curled up next to him. He smiled, noting she had turned over in her sleep, her head nuzzled into his chest. When she was asleep, she was so peaceful. He couldn't bear to wake her. With the careful grace only one of his race could muster, he moved her arms gently from his waist, and edged to the side of the bed. He immediately froze as his love shifted uneasily, her expression changing in her sleep as if she already knew he was departing. After a few moments of hearing his own heart beat in his ears, he stood, slipping on his boots. He strode to her side, and leaned over her smiling. "Goodbye, my Love. My Light. I promise I will return to you."

With that, he moved some of her silver bangs from her face, and kissed her forehead gently. His hand lingered on the soft gray skin of her cheek, before he reminded himself, he needed to depart shortly. He swayed a moment, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and made his way downstairs. He eyed the drowsy looking innkeeper, and tossed a gold coin in her direction, cringing as it almost hit her in the face. She gave him an absent wave and a barely understandable. "Mmm…thanks."

With an absent nod, he departed the Inn, struggling to see in the dim morning light that barely permeated Murder Row. Hyperion stood erect, awaiting his rider, nickering at him expectantly.

Imladras managed a smile, rummaging around through his saddle bags, producing a deep blue Titansteel helm he had fashioned for himself. His blade and shield were still strapped in their appropriate places on Hyperion's sides. For a moment he wondered where the rest of his armor was, then breathed a sigh of relief. It was still inside the Inn; he wouldn't need it for this battle. The Argent Crusade would provide him with the proper gear to mark him as a soldier of the cause.

With a quiet grunt, he swung himself into the saddle, and yanked on the reins, guiding his faithful Charger in the direction of the Translocation Orb within the Sunspire. Hyperion quickly picked up the pace, galloping towards his master's destination. The noble steed would make the short trek to the Undercity, where he would be transferred to Northend by Zeppelin. Imladras regretted that he would have to trust his closest friend to the safety of Goblins, but quickly fought down the urge to protest. He would ride on Asarandormu's back all the way to Northrend, and meet his amazing stallion in Zul'Drak with all the other mounts of the Argent Crusaders that were to accompany him. He gazed forward, holding tight to Hyperion's reins as he ran through the damp, cold air of the early morning.

To War he must go…

Day birds sang quietly as Synithalon woke up with a slight hangover. From what she could remember, the night had been amazing. The drinks, the dancing, and of course the entertaining sight of her Fiancé falling on his rump after swallowing down one cup too many of a bitter cactus cider Wolfrin had provided. She jumped up, her eyes wide, realizing her only warmth was provided from a translucent blue blanket provided by the Inn.

Then she recalled the night's less wonderful event with a depressed frown. Her future husband had been shipped out to Northrend to deal with the threat of the Drakkari Empire. She stared at the unoccupied bed, her hand closing on the sapphire sheets once occupied by her dearest.

"If only I could have gone with you…my Love." She whispered, while standing up and adjusting her dress. She noted that Imladras's armor was still strewn across the floor of the room they had rented. With a sigh, she picked up the heavy chest piece with a huff, and examined it. Much of the brilliant metal had been scarred by this, that, and the other thing. She smiled, running her hand across the area that would have sheltered Imladras's heart if he was wearing it, recalling the slightly slurred words of Wolfrin from the night before.

"Tankeh boy 'ere doesn't move ahn inch wen he be fightin' giants alongside meh, and yet, you little ladeh, got im' meltin' right next to ya!" he had said, soon to be followed by loud laughter. No truer words had ever been spoken by Wolfrin, Imladras had whispered in her ear after the troll Death Knight had made the comment. She giggled at the nickname Wolfrin had given her fiance.

With a sad sigh, she hefted the armor onto her hip and walked downstairs with it. The least she could do was repair some of the chinks and gashes left by whatever it was her "Tankeh Boy" had been fighting when she was and wasn't around. The Innkeeper seemed to be passed out on the table in front, and she simply smiled, noting Imladras had already paid the bill for her to stay an entire week. She moved quickly from the Inn, whistling for her mount when she was outside. Kaien came trotting out from the very shadows as he always did, nickering happily at her. She placed the chest piece awkwardly into one of her larger saddlebags, and hefted herself into the saddle. With a quiet, "ya!" horse and rider were rushing through the streets of Silvermoon. The sun had barely risen, only peeking over the brilliant Sunspire. She made her way to the Translocation Orb. She knew just the blacksmith to repair this armor. Who knows, maybe she wasn't too late to catch Imladras before he departed.

Imladras's ears perked up, and he raised his gaze to the rising sun. His horse was already long gone, now he had to get himself to Northrend, so he could return…

"It appears she has just awoken…" Asaran rumbled, striding graciously to his rider with a sad, but reassuring draconic smile. Imladras nodded, wrapping his travel cloak over his shoulders. He mounted the bronze drake, fitting his feet behind sandy gold scales.

"Let's be off." He spoke, a slightly defeated air to his tone. Asaran slammed his pinions, raising high into the air with only a few wing beats. Once in the sky, Asaran was putting miles between them and land with every wing beat. Imladras gazed across the vast oceans; his eyes squinted against the freezing air of the high skies. Despite his discipline, it was hard to keep his mind from wandering to Synithalon. He hated the fact that he didn't give her more notice…but, then again, such things were unpredictable. He only prayed that they would never have to be separated like this again. Part of him wanted to protect her, and keep her from such things as war and battle. Another part of him knew she had probably seen far worse than he, and that she would rather take her place by his side with a blade in hand and a competitive grin on her fair face, than wait helplessly in a secluded Elven City while she waited for her beloved to come home.

Asaran took notice of his companion's inner plight. With a wise countenance, he craned his long neck back to stare at Imladras.

"Already miss her touch do you?"

Imladras stared at his mount a bit irritated.

"That much is obvious."

Asaran kept his gaze on the touchy elf.

"And it shouldn't be! If you care so much for her, you will FOCUS on more important things."

The Paladin took offense.

"And what exactly is more important to me than her, do you think?!"

"Your life!"

The words came a bit harsher than intended, but it was more than enough to pull Imladras to his senses.

"If you valued your love together, and her feelings, then you would focus on the task at hand so she would still HAVE a Fiancé to worry about in a few days!" the drake eyed him with slitted golden optics, before craning his head forward again and picking up the pace.

They both stayed silent for most of the remaining trip. Imladras's mind reeled with the truth of his draconic companion's words. He knew now, that he had to focus on battle and the eradication of the Drakkari trolls. No distractions, he wouldn't allow himself the comfort of Synithalon's image within his mind until he returned.

Synithalon hazily appeared outside the gates of the Undercity, her mount soon following. Kaien nearly tripped on his own frozen hooves, stumbling out of the small wormhole the Orb had created for them. The elfin death knight gazed at her mount in horror. Where was the armor?

With a slight rumbling, and a startling "whoosh!" the portal answered for her. She had barely enough time to duck as the Titanium chest piece vaulted over her head and landed with a loud crash just outside the Orb's area of effect. Synithalon gazed at the portal, making sure that it wasn't going to throw anymore unexpected, lethal objects at her before she turned her back on it. Kaien nickered uncertainly at the portal, and trotted along with his Master with his head low.

Syn picked up the precious armor with one arm, and swung herself into the saddle. Kaien already knew where to go, and charged for the War Quarter within the Undercity. Synithalon's gaze lingered on the entrance to the gloomy city, knowing that a few hours ago, her future Husband stood there.

She stood silently within the War Quarter, keeping an eye out for the Blacksmith's corner of the area.

Synithalon let out an irritated huff.

"Five months I've traveled around this city…and I STILL don't know my way around."

Kaien neighed uncertainly as if answering that he too thought it was ridiculous he didn't know his way around. Synithalon's ears perked up as she heard the odd sound of glass traveling through the air, and she immediately turned her mount, bringing up the armor to shield her face. Moments later a nicely sized glass bottle crashed into it, sending pieces of shattered glass everywhere. She rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Hiya Crit."

The undead warrior grinned at her.

"I take it you want armor fixed yes?"

"Indeed."

Syn hopped off her mount's back, striding to Crit with the armor in hand. The moment it was in arms reach, Crit snatched it, gazing at it as though she could see it.

"This is far too large for you…and it's got no booby room…"

Synithalon giggled at her friend's wording. There was no humor in Crit's face.

"Is this your pet's armor?" she said, though it sounded like more of a hiss.

Synithalon blinked at her, not sure if she should be offended or to start laughing.

"Uh…yes. It is."

Crit shoved the armor into her arms.

"He's a blacksmith yes? He can fix it. I've got REAL work to do."

Syn eyed her curiously, following her inside the blacksmith's corner.

"He's off in Gundrak right now. Plus…you owe me. "

"Whadda I owe you?" Crit said, the leather straps around her eyes raising slightly.

Syn looked away, a funny expression on her face, flicking a bit of dirt of her Fiance's armor.

"Oh, you know. That time I got you out of that scrabble with that gnome Kinkerfitz."

Crit eyed her unimpressed, but took the armor back, placing a sharp bony finger onto the metal.

Syn cringed as the undead scratched a happy face onto the surface.

"Hehehe…" she giggled, walking inside with it. "I owe you nothing!" she yelled over the noise of the blacksmiths.

Synithalon shook her head, swinging herself into the saddle. She chewed on her bottom lip. "What to do now…"

Imladras arrived at his destination not a moment too soon. The Argent forces were already mobilizing.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, hopping off Asaran's back and striding towards the field commander.

The human regarded him with hard eyes.

"Bout time you showed up Solais. Your unit has already been divided up."

Imladras blinked at him, slightly confused. "My unit?"

"Yeah…ya know. The some 300 people you'll be commanding out on the field?"

That's right…the orders had stated he would be one of the Commanding units on the battle field. That practically put a bulls-eye on his back.

Imladras nodded at his counterpart, striding past him and towards the stables.

Hyperion no longer wore his crimson and gold armor. Now he was covered head to toe in the slate gray and cobalt armor of the Argent Crusade. The great stallion was chasing around a very familiar white wolf, pawing at the ground wherever the bushy tail landed, always missing by a few inches. Imladras eyed the wolf, "Timmain?"

He jumped back as a new face suddenly appeared in front of him. Her face was young, barely of the age to go to war, and…it was upside down. Long golden hair flowed almost to the ground from where she hung, and her greenish silver eyes seemed to be judging him. She grinned at him, "My wolf."

Timmain came trotting up to Imladras, pushing her huge snowy head against his chest, as if to prove that, "No, she was not this new strange elf's wolf."

He scratched Timmain behind one ear, stating clearly. "Actually, it's my Fiancé's wolf. Where did you find her?"

The odd elf seemed to be peeved that he was taking Timmain. "She was wandering out in Gun'drak, howling like a fool. If I didn't grab her she was going to get eaten by who knows what." Imladras momentarily glared at the elf. 'She was most likely crying out for her missing master after she ran in fright from a Drakkiri god…' he silently thought.

"Ah…so that's where you ran off to." Imladras whispered to Synithalon's favored companion, releasing her to go and nip at Hyperion's heels. He kept his eyes on them, too tired to let a smile grace his lips.

The other elf shifted, and his silver optics dashed to her. She was now standing inches from his face, as if attempting to look taller.

"Who are you, if I may ask?"

The blonde elf grinned at him, pulling a wooden tooth pick from her pack and placing it in her mouth in a pitiful attempt to look badass. "Just call me Picks. And you're Commander Solais I take it?"

Imladras nodded at her, politely excusing himself, and striding to his faithful steed. Picks seemed too bored not to follow him, her odd minty eyes gazing at him with a child's curiosity. He tried to ignore her, the girl reminding him too much of his beloved. He grabbed Hyperion's reins, swinging himself into the new, not so familiar saddle. Timmain barked at him, more of a wolfish growl really, and trotted up beside him. Picks huffed boredly and ran off to find someone else to bother.

Moments later a loud crash and guttural yelling came from a few feet away. A troll, a fellow Argent Crusader most likely, came flying through the trees, a huge form following him. Imladras drew his blade instinctively, raising his shield and reining in Hyperion to a defensive stance. The lumbering figure came out into the sunlight, and turned out to be a tauren. His black fur was matted, and his eyes seemed exhausted. He still stood a foot and a half above Imladras, even on horseback.

"Get out of my way, puny elf." He rumbled, moving his hand to push Hyperion a few steps. The stallion stood his ground, lowering his armored head threateningly. Imladras glared at the tauren.

"I am your Commanding Officer. Stand down."

The tauren let out a guttural laugh, trudging past him and back towards the troll. "I take orders from no one. Especially not pampered blood elven sell swords."

Something in Imladras's mind snapped. Patience?

"Heh…sell sword am I?" he whispered, grinning. He leapt off Hyperion's back, striding in between the obviously battered troll and the angry Tauren. He gazed back at the troll for a moment, noting he was a

Mage, not very good in close combat.

Imladras took his stance in front of the Tauren, blade held back but ready to strike, shield placed an inch above chest level, his body turned slightly to hide behind the shield, and still look intimidating. The Tauren looked about ready to tear his head off, then grinned, swinging some sort of weapon that roared through the icy air towards Imladras. The Paladin nimbly sprung out of the way, his eyes going wide as his eyes fell on a completely obsidian battle axe longer than his body, the blade large enough to cleave him and two other men in half if swung hard enough. The Tauren quickly pulled the blade up, swinging at Imladras's form in mid-air. It took everything he had to keep from getting sliced in two, his helm flying off and clanging uselessly to the ground near the troll. He landed with a huff, icy fog floating around him. His expert eyes immediately searched for any signs of weakness.

'Hamstrings and haunches are both exposed…back of the neck is useful..but I'm not looking to kill him.' His mind calculated quickly. Then his eyes fell on the Tauren's unprotected face. The Paladin nodded at his new foe, then launched towards the Tauren. He threw his shield first, both his eyes and the defensive weapon glowing a brilliant gold. The Tauren dodged the first attack, but then was slammed into the ground as the shield spun back around and struck him in the back, spinning back to its owner's masterful arm. Imladras caught it and continued his advance. By the time he reached the black behemoth, the Tauren was already up. His eyes were manic with rage, and he breathed hard. He let out a bellowing roar that even brought the slightest of doubts to Imladras's heart. The smaller elf brought his shield up once more, catching the wicked battle axe before it split his unprotected skull. The muscles of his shield arm coiled tightly against the mighty onslaught. For a moment, both fighters simply held each other's glares, both bodies shaking as if ready to give out beneath the other's power. Then, Imladras let out a roar of his own, forcing his shield arm to the side, all but tossing the axe out of one of the Tauren's hands. Before the bovine had time to react, Imladras brought up his hard won crimson blade, slicing at the warrior. With swiftness that no one of his race should have possessed, the Tauren ducked underneath, throwing Imladras into the air with his horns. An idea sparked in the Paladin's mind as he flew into the air. Something Synithalon had taught him, "a trick of the trade" she had called it. He flipped in mid-air, slowing his momentum by grabbing onto one of the stable railings. He slid almost two feet before coming to a stop. His feet began to fall…leg muscles coiled…and as soon as they touched the wood, he sprung. His body flew at his enemy with surprising speed, and the Tauren's eyes widened, before he lifted his blade. Imladras caught it on his sword, forcing it down. He landed on the axe's solid hilt, titanium boots sparking against the metal as he slid across the weapon. Imladras grinned wickedly at his victory as his arm pulled back, slamming his shield into the tauren's face. The huge warrior's body fell back, toppling unconscious to the ground. Imladras placed his feet at footholds in the Tauren's armor, then jumped from the body before it touched ground, landing nimbly a few feet from him. He breathed heavily, his copper hair covering one of his eyes, slightly disheveled from the sudden battle. Once he caught his breath he strode towards the Tauren, who had now awoken and was attempting to get up. Imladras placed the scarlet blade against the soldier's throat. "Do you yield?" he threatened.

The Tauren simply burst out into uncontrollable laughter.

"Gah..haha! I haven't been…hah! Knocked around like that, haha, since I trained with my father!" the Tauren roared. Imladras held out his hand, and managed to help pull the warrior up despite the obvious weight difference. The Tauren put a bestial arm on Imladras's shoulder.

"I am Tork, an exile of the Grimtotem Clan. I will happily yield to your might, little elf." He stated, bowing his head, walking off still shaking with laughter. Imladras strode towards his helmet, wondering why the Tauren would be laughing about getting beat.

"Mabye he was just looking for a suitable challenge…" he thought, pulling his long ponytail beneath his helmet and, striding back to his Charger and jumping into the saddle. His back ached where the muscle that supported his shield arm was located, and his mind quickly jumped to Synithalon. He craned his neck to the side, rotating his shoulder to stretch it out as best he could. He would likely get tossed around a lot worse than this. He let a small smile grace his lips, his mind wandering to other times where he had felt like this…and how much help his beloved had been to fix it. He would have to consult Syn on this developing issue as soon as he returned.

Synithalon crouched underneath a shelf in the garage she had built for herself in Eversong. She picked up her trusted tools, and stood walking to a moderate sized iron table, where various engine parts lay strewn about. She pursed her lips at the useless pile of metal, silently doubting she could put this together into a suitable gift. She reached into her pack, pulling out the plans she had got from one of the Engineers in Borean Tundra. Her eyes seemed lost in the complicated lines and notes scribbled on the paper. 'Damn goblins…'she thought silently, turning back to her table, leaning over it slightly. She heard a whistle of approval grace her ears and her eyes widened in slight fury.

"Mmmhm…well well. You've certainly grown into your form since last I saw you Syn." A too familiar voice cooed. Her ears twitched as she heard him enter her garage. She grabbed her Arclight Spanner, turning to glare at the figure who thought he could come into HER garage unannounced. The male elf stood there grinning, his eyes sizing her up. He licked his lips, nodding in approval.

"What the hell are you doing here Rhyorm?!"

"Oh just visiting. Thought I'd stop by."

She glared at him, not convinced.

"You haven't seen me in eight years. Now answer me clearly. Why the hell are you here?! How did you know where to find me?"

He stepped closer to her, his golden blonde hair framing his face nicely. He wore no shirt, his skin tanned as if he spent most of his time outside. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed her against the table.

"You're so snappy. Like a snake. What's wrong…I thought you liked it when I did this."

He kissed her smoothly, her knees threatening to give out at the strength of it. It reminded her of her first real kiss with Imladras…

She clenched her hands against her table, her mind clearing. She was no longer this mongrel's pet to do with what he wished. With one last taste of the unwanted kiss, she brought up her wrench, slamming it hard into the ex-Paladin's skull. He cried out, holding the side of his face, a long gash forming on his cheek.

"You little bitch. What the hell is wrong with you?! After all this time, I thought you'd be overjoyed to see me!" he cried.

Synithalon spat on the floor a few inches from where he lay sprawled.

"I don't belong to you anymore, you pitiful excuse for a man! I belong to a true Paladin now." She hissed, dashing out of the garage. She pressed a large red button, the steel doors slamming shut, and locking. It wouldn't take him long to get out, and she winced as he would most likely destroy everything she was working on. She whistled, jumping on Kaien's back and galloping towards Silvermoon. She had friends there…she could fend of this splinter of the past with their help.

(Part Two)

Imladras stood trying to catch his breath. His body was battered and bruised, and he couldn't spare the energy to heal himself if he was to continue fighting. His forces had nearly taken Gun'drak. Now…only Drakuru was left, hidden somewhere beneath the great citadel with his remaining Scourge.

His ears pricked up as a small rumbling echoed through the halls he had called a halt inside of…

Trolls flooded in from all sides, save from below his forces, some even climbing on the roofs, throwing axes in their gnarled mouths waiting for use! Imladras's trained eyes dashed from each, trying to spot the leader. He gestured quickly, a wall of bowman and lance men forming rows in front of him.

'3….2…1' he silently counted.

Trolls blindly collided into the long lances, some of them bowling over the poor souls holding the weapons. Elven rangers picked off those who climbed on the stone roofs. More and more trolls piled onto the lance men, and before Imladras knew it, ice trolls were sprinting towards him and his first unit. He signaled to engage, and like a wave of gold and cobalt, both armies collided into each other. Only one charged in front of Imladras. The eleven foot tall Tork lowered his horned head and skewered an unprotected troll, tossing it a few feet into its forces. He bellowed the same roar that had even shook Imladras's bones, and he grinned as some trolls around Tork had fled. Imladras glanced back, noticing Picks was perched on a stone, one knee in front of her as a proper mount for her bow, her perfect smile gleaming through her golden cloak. Syn flashed through his mind, and he shut his eyes, trying to dismiss the image. He himself charged, weaving through the battlefield, searching for the Drakkari Commander. He felt an odd sense of safety knowing Pick's lethal eagle eye was always on him.

Imladras stopped for a moment, his silver eyes resting onto Drakuru's large, armored form.

"Finally…a suitable challenge." He whispered, dashing towards the Commander. Two truesilver arrows imbedded themselves into the Commander's guards and Imladras smiled. He was glad he had met Picks, and he knew he had to hurry if he wasn't going to waste the rest of her arrows. Drakuru turned to face him, his red eyes flaring.

"You be one o' da-"

Imladras spun to gain momentum, and slammed Drakuru in the face with his shield. The troll was hit with the force of a steel tank, and he went flying. It wasn't enough to kill him, but it gave Imladras the space he needed. He advanced on Drakuru, pulling his blade. The nine foot troll stumbled around, a dark blue spot forming on his head where his skull had been all but crushed. Imladras strafed around his opponent, waiting.

Drakuru shook his head, and picked up a large sword commonly known as The Troll Butcherer.

"Ya shoulda killed meh while I was down, mon." the troll rumbled.

Imladras grinned at him.

"Wouldn't have been fair." He taunted, motioning for the troll to step closer. Drakuru eyed him curiously, before charging him with a mighty roar. Imladras raised his shield and grinned.

The Paladin ducked at the last second, sweeping his shield underneath Drakuru's legs. The immense troll toppled, slamming into the ground with a loud "oof". He moved to raise himself, but Imladras chose differently. His eyes glowed a fierce gold, and Light arced out from beneath his feet, charring the troll and rooting him to the ground.

Through gritted teeth the troll whispered.

"Why you be doin' dis mon? Why do ya deny the powah of da Lich King?"

Imladras's expression changed to one of rage.

"Your master held me in his icy claws once before, and kept me away from my family..my friends!

He destroyed my reputation, and forced me to kill and raise my own comrades in battle as fiends! And most of all…He destroyed the heart of his best friend…" He growled, raising his sword for the final blow.

"and who be dat?" the troll growled.

"My Wife!" Imladras shouted. The crimson blade stabbed through Drakuru's back, Light flowing inside and completely destroying the heart.

"That is what it feels like, to be stabbed in the back by ones that used to be your friends." He whispered, a bad memory arcing across his mind. Drakuru let out a pained gasp, blood boiling up to his lips.

A flash of purple light suddenly blinded Imladras, and a shockwave shook the Drakkari halls.

Every troll lay limp on the ground, and Imladras's own forces seemed frozen in time.

A hand clutched tightly to Imladras's throat, hefting him a few inches off the ground. His eyes flared as he gazed at the figure in front of him. The figure had short, spiky blue hair, pale violet skin that reminded Imladras too much of Krasus, and a long red overcoat that made the figure look like someone out of Hollows End.

"Deniryx…" he managed hoarsely.

The Vynderian Prince eyed him curiously,

"So…you remember me. I underestimated your mind's capacity." He rumbled, a voice emanating from his throat that was much too deep for someone that looked his age.

Imladras struggled for breath.

"O-of course I remember you worm! You tried to k-kill my fiance!" he coughed.

Deniryx smiled, his mouth filled with too many teeth to be normal.

"Ah yes…Dearest Synithalon…" his viewable eye brightened. "That reminds me, I have something to tell you about that…wretched refuse you call a mate."

Imladras's eyes flared with rage, and he struggling against Deniryx's grasp.

The demon prince only chuckled darkly, squeezing tighter, forcing a gasp from his captive.

"Have you ever wondered about her true age? Ever thought to ask?"

Imladras felt his eyes begin to roll back into his head, and by sheer will he glared back at the demon, unable to force the air out of his lungs to answer.

"She can only remember full memory back for 29 years…and yet she is 600 years old. Fascinating isn't it? She contains something very powerful."

"G-get to the damned point…!" Imladras gasped, fingers fumbling with the demons grip.

Deniryx grinned, and pulled out a small violet phial, with the figure of a silver dancing night elf on top. The bottle contained pitch black liquid that radiated with the wildest of magic. Imladras almost wanted to cringe away from it, the temptation of arcane power seeping into his mind.

"Recognize it elf? That scent…a little too much like your dearest?" Deniryx murmured.

He leaned in, only inches from Imladras's ear.

"She and my sister are part of the Well of Eternity…just as the great Sunwell was locked away…so was a small fragment of the great source of the Maelstrom."

Imladras knew it wasn't true…and yet some part of him thought it made sense. It would explain how Syn had grown up with Arthas, and how she aged so quickly compared to others of his race.

"And…Imladras…you must believe me, because your wife is no half-elf."

The demon grinned. "As you know she was an experiment, who knows what else that Forsaken husk did to her. He was able to catch a Vynderian princess after all…it wouldn't surprise me he could bring such a powerful force to form itself into the shape of a breathing being."

Imladras eyed the demon uncertainly. How did he know these things?

Deniryx suddenly gained a look of pity.

"Too bad you'll never get to ask."

Imladras's eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth to cry out, only a bit of a gurgle escaping.

Deniryx's hand imbedded itself through his chest and into the wall behind him. The Vynderian laughed, twisting his hand within the wound. Imladras's back arced against the wall. The demon was physically grabbing onto his spine. Blood splashed out all over the demon, but it did not faze him.

The elven Paladin's eyes dimmed to a dull silver, and he felt blood start to trickle down his mouth.

"W-why then? Did you come for me…you o-obviously want Syn..Synithalon's power…"he rasped, his lungs beginning to fill with blood as well.

"Because…I couldn't find your mate after our last meeting. She had hidden herself. If she feels the pain of your death.." the demon's gaze fell onto the sapphire brooch on Imladras's wrist. "and I know she will. Her pain will be so great that the Well's energies will reveal themselves. And I will take what is rightfully mine. Not the entire Well…but two shards large enough to bring about Kataric's new age."

Imladras silently regretted not asking what the brooch was for. But it was too late for him…he prayed Syn would be alright.

Suddenly the Sapphire changed to a bright flaring red, and a loud roar was heard. Deniryx glared in the direction, pulling his hand from the wall and tossing the elf off of his arm. Imladras landed hard, reaching down to try and heal the wound. He felt the warm light flow into the wound, and his hand curled into a fist. His wound opened further, and wider, spewing more blood onto the ground.

"So…this is how Syn got her scar…" he silently thought, remembering how he had tried to heal the crawling snake-like mark. He began coughing fiercely, his entire body quivering. He had gotten used to the cold of Northrend…but this was different. This was something no one could get used to. It was death…

He saw a huge violet form descend upon the demon…

Eldrasill's ears pricked upwards. She gazed around confused. The trolls were dead…lying lifeless on the tunnel floor. Her own comrades seemed frozen in time. She took a step forward…and her whole world shifted. The walls turned purple, and where her foot struck the ground, dark energies rippled like a rock falling in water. She stayed put until a horrid shriek entered her mind. Her left wrist burned, and she saw her sapphire brooch turn to ruby. Syn was in trouble!

She morphed into her bear from, charging down the hall. What held her eyes both horrified and confused her. Synithalon was nowhere in sight, but there was another familiar figure. Two of them…

Her niece's beloved Fiancé…and a Vynderian.

She let out a challenging roar, and the Vynderian gazed at her, furious. He threw the elf off of his arm, his prone form landing lifelessly at her violet paws. She could still smell life on him…she had a few moments to spare before she would be forced to leave with him.

Her huge ursine head glared up at the demon, and she charged, carefully making sure her paws didn't crush the elf beneath her.

The Vynderian brought up a black blade, coalesced in putrid, horrific energies, and it began to shriek.

Eldrasill shook her head, trying to dismiss the horrid sound. The demon took his chance, and ran. Eldrasill pursued him, reverted to a faster cat form. She was almost upon him…and a black rift in time and space itself opened, the demon vaulting through it. Eldrasill skidded to a stop and cursed herself. No druid had ever proved so slow…

She morphed back to her normal form, and dashed back to the elf. He was coughing horribly, blood pooling around him and spilling out of his mouth. She could scarcely believe he had survived this long.

His eyes reopened as she came near him. With careful grace, she kneeled, placing gentle hands around his shoulders and pulling his form into her lap. His copper hair was caked in blood, and he continued to cough, some of his blood splashing onto her robes. She reached out, the green healing energies of nature flowing into the wound. His eyes seemed fearful, and Eldrasill's eyes widened as the wound opened further. She immediately halted her healing, and eyed the elf sorrowfully. She put a hand over his mouth to silence any screams or coughs, then tried again. She recognized what this was. Her hand began to glow a more wild green, flowing out as if almost mist..then transformed. Emerald dragon claws coalesced around the elf's forearm and she reached into the wound itself. She felt the elf's jaw clench underneath her hand, his eyes shutting tightly. She placed a knee over his chest to keep him from flailing, keeping her gaze on the wound.

"Almost there…" she cooed.

Her claws closed on a large black form. She pulled her hand out, the source of the elf's pain coming with it. A pitch black arachnid flailed uselessly in the elf's clawed hand. She grinned crushing it to bits. Imladras's eyes were wide with fear at what she had just pulled out of him.

"I have closed them for now" the druid said, referring to his injuries. "But they are not fully healed. I will have to take you back to my encampment for proper healing. Don't worry, your troops know they are victorious, and they will awaken from the demon's spell as soon as his influence has left this dark place. He did not win this day, heart of my Niece." She whispered. She wrapped one of his arms around the back of her neck and picked him up at and odd angle. His mind swam as she picked him up, and he blacked out.

Synithalon sat in the same place her beloved has first proposed to her, her hand constantly reaching back to touch the blade slung over her shoulder. She would wait for Rhyorm to get out…and she would wipe away the dark smear he left on her past. She had enough of her heart to worry about. She couldn't let it regret something it didn't love anymore. She had alerted Liandra of her danger, and the hunter stood watch on the other end of the city, promising she would give notice of any sightings.

Synithalon's ears pricked upwards, soft footsteps coming from behind her. She turned, and there he was. Still shirtless, and unarmed. He glared at her fiercely, his hair matted with sweat, a knuckle bleeding.

"Ya know…getting out of a steel cage isn't easy. Now I'm going to trap you and treat you like the animal you are." He growled, lunging at her.

She sidestepped him, swinging her etched runeblade at him. The blade bit into his arm, and he yelped.

He spun back at her, stretching his palms. Light came from the very sky and slammed into Synithalon's body. She cried out as it scorched her unholy form. Her mind echoed with the familiar feeling of the Light's warmth. She realized how easy it would be..if Imladras had ever felt the need to kill her. If she finally snapped. Not only did the light bring physical pain, but also the pain of truth. Images dashed across her mind, painful, scarring things that no being should ever have to see. She saw Arthas murdering thousands. Her own hand clutched around her Fiancé's neck as the Lich King used her as a vessel to vent his fury. The burning of the Light subsided, and her blade fell from her hands.

"How does it feel…to see the truth? I didn't want to do this Syn…but you leave me no choice." He growled, licking his lips.

She reached for her blade, and another arc of light cut through her hand. Rhyorm kicked the blade away from her, grinning maliciously. He gestured at the ground, and Light burst forth from the cream tile of the ground, weakening Synithalon further. She struggled to move away from it, too many images racing through her mind. The truth of all the evil she had committed. She was a monster.

Rhyorm leaned over her, grabbing a handful of silver hair and forcing her to kiss him.

'No…no! I can't let this happen. My body has resisted the Light before…it will do so now!' her mind cried.

She dug her nails into the elf's face, shoving him off. She crawled backwards out of the area of effect, raising her fists. Rhyorm hissed, lunging at her. She ducked, punching him hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Without a second to waste, she spun, bringing her foot down behind the elf's neck and smashing him into the concrete. Once he was down, she took the pleasure of kicking him hard in the gut, forcing him to cough. She snapped her fingers, her runeblade skidding across the ground and jumping into her hand. She lifted it to deliver the final blow to her undesired past…and she screamed.

Her hand clutched her chest, near where her lungs were. Her spine burned as if something was grabbing onto it from the inside. She doubled over, recognizing the connection.

"No!" she screamed, tears pooling from her eyes.

Rhyorm chuckled. "What? Couldn't kill me you bitch?!" he roared, kicking her in the mouth. She flew back, sprawling on the ground a few feet from him. He stepped closer, his eyes lustful.

"I wasn't going to do this, but now I can't ignore it." He cried manically. She tried to crawl away, too overwhelmed by pain and the despair of knowing her love had just suffered a mortal wound. The feeling didn't leave…which meant he wasn't healing himself. She coughed, her lungs barely able to deliver air throughout her body. Rhyorm climbed over her, forcing himself upon her. His hands reached into her shirt, ripping off the delicate, expensive fabric. She cried in surprise, swatting helplessly at him as she tried to strike through the pain. The rogue paladin chuckled, wrapping his hands around her breasts.

She turned over, trying to escape. There was so much pain, she began to see red, and her eyes grew weak. She whimpered, trying to crawl away. She felt his hands descend to her waist, and he pulled her pants off, nearly ripping them to shreds as well. Her silver eyes flared to blue, and she brought her hand up to punch him. Her arm curled back, and she screamed, her back arcing. She felt her skin come into contact with Rhyorm's and knew he took it as a gesture of lust. He began to fumble with his own breeches.

"No…no no…" she helplessly mumbled, too weak to stop him.

Then a very reassuring sound graced Synithalon's ears. Rhyorm cried out, glaring behind him. An arrow stuck through his calf and into the ground, pinning him to the floor. Syn backed away a couple inches, curling into the ball, too overwhelmed by sorrow and fear for what might have happened to her.

Liandra's furious yet soothing voice filled her mind.

"You fucking bastard!" she screamed, knocking another arrow. The ex-Paladin shrieked at a pitch Syn never knew possible. Another arrow stuck from between his legs, impaling his groin.

Liandra sprinted towards him, grabbing a handful of his golden hair, forcing him to stare at her. Her eyes echoed with the fury of one of the Fordragon family, lion like, and merciless. She looked every bit the righteous warrior her brother was.

"Say goodbye to that pretty face…" she growled, smashing his face into the ground several times until it was a red pulpy mess. She was satisfied as his skull started making more of a mashing sound than a crunch. She wiped some of the elf's blood from her face and immediately strode for Syn.

The death knight lay curled on the ground, tears pooling from her blue eyes. She clutched her chest, and whimpered. Liandra eyed her sorrowfully, kneeling next to her and pulling the dark skinned elf into her chest, laying her head against her silver hair.

"I'm so sorry I didn't reach you sooner. I tried to spot him…but somehow he avoided even my eyes." Liandra cooed, stroking Synithalon's hair.

"Come on…let's get you to a bed where you can rest." She said, slinging Syn's arm over her shoulder and standing.

Synithalon shrieked, plummeting to the ground.

"Syn! What ails you!?" Liandra cried.

The dark elf shook her head.

"It's Imladras…h-he's hurt! He's dying…" she coughed.

Liandra's eyes widened, and then understood. She knew the connection Syn had made with the young Paladin, and saw the bruise forming underneath her friend's breast.

She whistled for Minuit, and told him to lie down. The obsidian cat did as he was told, huffing worriedly as Liandra laid Syn over his black coat.

"I'll bring a healer to you! I'll be right back! Minuit! Destroy anyone that even comes near her!" she yelled, dashing away.

Syn shook her head, eyeing the worried panther sadly.

"It's not me…I'm worried about.. It's…Dras.." she managed, before slipping into unconsciousness.

Imladras groaned, eyes creaking open. He heard a night elven curse reach his ears.

"Hold your breath; you woke up at just the wrong time." Before he had time to react, he felt something sharp and hot plunge into his chest. This time, he did scream. Loud, and filled with agony, it echoed through the camp, the other elves that lived there cringing away from the sound. Everything hurt, spiking heat dashing up through his spine, and into his veins. It felt cleansing, but the pain of whatever it was removing was unbearable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torture, the pain ended.

Eldrasill pulled her hand from the elf's chest, healing the gash she had left, and wiping some of this blood from her hands.

"There we go…" she huffed, wiping her sweaty brow. "Even I had trouble with that one…what did you do to get a Vynderian after you?"

Imladras's eyes went wide and he shot up, his eyes dashing for his equipment.

"Deniryx! I have to stop him…Aaaaah!-" he cried. Eldrasill gently pushed him back down onto a pillow.

Her eyes burrowed deeply into his.

"You know this demons name?"

"Y-yes…he's after my fiance…" he managed, breathing heavily. Everything hurt so much…what had Deniryx done to him?

"Oh yes…my Niece. Synithalon." The night elf's eyes brightened. "You two are getting married?! Oh my…I'll be sure to poke my head in, haha. Well, I'd best get you back to the Fjord…your flight will be leaving very shortly." She announced loudly.

Imladras struggled to grasp everything she had said. She changed subjects so quickly.

His mind flashed suddenly, memories of the past events that had happened over the days.

He remembered he was in Northrend, commanding troops to take over Gundrak. He prayed they had succeeded.

With much more care, he sat up, wincing.

"Where..am I exactly?" he croaked.

"You are at Star's Rest. But we must get going; your drake is waiting for us."

"My drake…?"

"Asarandormu…I believe was his name. I didn't let him pass until he recited the draconic peace conduct and your full name. Which he did…" she huffed disappointedly. Imladras wasn't even sure what that was.

With help, the Paladin rose to his feet, and wrapped himself in a fur cloak.

Eldrasill grinned. "I'm not going to dress you, so try to muster enough strength to do that much. Can't go running around the Unforgiving Wastes half naked."

Imladras's cheeks went pink, and he gazed down at himself. Thank the Light he had received no wounds below the waist.

The druid stepped out, allowing him privacy for him to dress himself. He gazed down at his armor. Oddly, it was only his helm, and the red shirt and pants he had originally come in.

There was no sign of the Argent plate he wore into battle. With a shrug, he slipped on his clothing, taking care not to reopen his wounds.

About ten minutes later he emerged from the tent, Eldrasill impatiently tapping her foot a few feet from the tent.

She stood next to Asaran, who eyed him with golden optics. Imladras nodded at him once, and the drake strode to him.

"I can take care of him from now on, druid. Thank you for all your help." He rumbled, nodding his draconic head at the elf.

"It was a pleasure. As a herald of Ysera, I was happy to serve." She said, giving him a deep bow.

Imladras clambered up into the saddle, placing his feet behind sandy golden scales.

With a roar, Asaran took off, slamming his wings hard to get aloft in the icy dead air of Dragonblight.

"So…it seems we will have to pay another visit to the one you called Nelen." The bronze drake called over the whipping winds.

Imladras seemed puzzled, then remembered everything Deniryx had said.

'Syn…a part of the Well of Eternity…there was no way.' He thought silently.

"There's no harm in trying to find out the truth. And if it really is true, the damned Forsaken will truly die for everything he's done to her." Imladras growled, leaning low on his drake's neck to avoid the cold.

He noticed some familiar land marks. Only a few hours to the Fjord…and he could be home.

"Oh, and by the way. Hyperion and Timmain are already at the landing zone. They will be awaiting you on the Zeppelin." Asaran stated.

"Thank you for taking care of that. But why?"

"My Lord has been discovered as the potential leader of the Infinite Dragonflight regrettably. So now I must travel to Tanaris to see what has happened. I won't have the time to bear you to Silvermoon. Do not worry, I will be back before you truly have need of me."

Imladras nodded at his comrade and looked onward towards the white horizon. He had a horrid feeling that Synithalon was not well…

Synithalon gazed at the roof of her room. Imladras's finished armor lay at her bedside, and she kept a hand on it, as if some small comfort. Hot tears pooled down her cheeks as she realized he may not be coming home. Then again, her pain had subsided, which meant someone had saved him…or he had passed. Either way, she would have to leave shortly to meet him at the Zeppelin tower in Undercity. A priest had already tended to her odd ailment, unable to find a root cause. Her dark skin was still scorched by the Light, the priest unable to fix that as well. Synithalon wondered why her body was suddenly rejecting the Light. Or maybe it always had….except with one person.

Renewed sorrow threatened to bring her into full blown sobs, and she stood. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and dressed herself in riding clothes. She hefted the armor once more, and stepped downstairs. Her mind wandered to Rhyorm and where he had gone after Liandra had destroyed his beauty and his only way to conceive. Unable to shake the fact that he was most likely still alive, she winced. She had failed to remove another dark splinter from her heart.

Once outside, Kaien strode happily to her side, nudging her shoulder with his velvety muzzle.

Synithalon managed a half hearted giggle and placed the armor into her saddle bags. This time she would take the long way, through the plague lands. Maybe the extra time would soothe her aching mind so she could truly smile when her love returned home. She snapped the reins, and headed in the direction of the Ghostlands. Soon, they would be back in each other's arms. Or so she hoped.

A gnawing feeling in her gut said she would see him in a body bag. But her heart stated boldly that he was alive and well. Shaking the dark feeling of his demise away, she rode with renewed hope towards her destination.

"Soon…Imladras...my Love. You will be back in my arms…I know it." She whispered to herself.

Only a few more hours…

To Be Continued!

In game, lololololol! xD


	2. Kyrian Not Truly Goodbye

Kyrenya stood silently in the city, leaned back against a wall in a dark corner, peering out at the citizens of Ironforge. The body of her "would be" Husband, had already been prepared for the ceremony, and now it was time to wait. Synithalon strode up to her in her full armor, ignoring the passing glares from all around her. She had a pass to step into the city, as the highest ranking Death Knight currently not stationed in Northrend. Some silence passed between them before Synithalon chose to break it.

"How're you holding up?" she questioned, her forboding silver eyes biting into the rogue. Kyrian shook her head, her voice weak.

"If I think about it too much, I'll tear myself apart…" Synithalon merely nodded. She had been in this spot before, mourning the death of a dear loved one, and doing all she could to keep from breaking down.

Horns resounded throughout the expansive caverns of Ironforge, and all turned their heads towards Tinker Town. Synithalon sighed. "Look's like the King's here."

Kyrian nodded, pushing herself off from the wall and striding side by side with Syn through Ironforge. King Varian Wrynn himself had come to attend the funeral, as it was, one of his most valuable officers was being buried. Adorned in his deep cobalt armor, with a long fur cloak billowing behind him and a team of twelve royal guards, he looked every bit the glorious ruler everyone knew him to be.

Synithalon raised an eyebrow at Kyrian's somewhat amazed face. "Oh it's just fanfare, don't get too excited." Kyrian blinked at Syn, somewhat offended. "That's my King you're talking about."

Synithalon coughed at a laugh. "Yeah, it is. And?"

By this time, the King had already spotted them and was striding towards them.

"Lieutenant-Commander Synithalon."He stated, an oddly familiar expression on his face. Synithalon didn't bow, or salute, chuckling. "King Varian."

The King made a quick gesture, and his guards, as well as most of the crowd dispersed.

"What're you doing here Syn?" he asked, cocking his head at her. Synithalon nodded to the still, silent Kyrian.

"Here to keep young Miss Skylar standing." She stated simply, her voice grim. Varian nodded, frowning. He placed a hand on Kyrian's shoulder, squeezing it gently and looking her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss. He was a great man." Kyrian seemed bewildered at the contact, her body stiffening. She nodded, bowing her head. "Thank you, My King."

Synithalon tilted her head towards the amassing crowd. "Shall we go?"

The King and Kyrian both nodded, following her through the streets. Varian took his place amongst his guards and the rest of the humans attending, while Kyrian and Synithalon both stood directly in front of the burial site. Kyrian could feel the empty hole in her chest that was now her heart, as she stared down at the pale body of her lover, and yet she could not weep. She knew the blade strapped to her hip was why. She felt both sick and comforted that the soul of her beloved was contained in a steel blade at her side, as she turned to face the amassed crowd attending the funeral. She swallowed her grief, clearing her throat.

"Stephen Murphy Obrien…a true Leader…a Father…a Loving Husband. These are just a few of the many things this great man was. He was my Commander, my teacher, and my heart. I, as a single person, and all of us, as the Alliance, have lost a priceless treasure today. We must grieve…and pay our respects, but also must celebrate, for despite our loss, his soul has been freed." Kyrian bowed her head, taking in a shallow breath, her eyes watering.

"I'm going to say a farewell…if any of you know this old ballad…I would ask you please join me."

Synithalon put a supportive hand on her shoulder, and they both took in deep breaths, and began to sing…

(Trovommi Amor-Mediaeval Baebes)

Those who knew the song contributed their voices, and those who did not bowed their heads, and closed their eyes in respect, the King included. Some prayed, many wept, and as the song progressed, the voices grew louder, higher pitched voices of women and children, as well as the deeper voices of men, echoing throughout the caverns of Ironforge. Many of the voices slowly faded away as the song came to it's end, until finally, all went silent. Kyrian noticed a few tears had escaped, flowing down her pale cheeks. She wiped them away, saying a prayer for her beloved, and knelt. She took the medallion of Ironforge she had kept for a keepsake, and kissed it, before placing it on her lover's cold chest.

With that, she stood, taking her place beside the crowd. Many dwarves and humans alike paid their respects, while a dwarven priest read off the Light's Last Rites.

"…now return to the Stone, from which you were birthed, and watch through eternity. Leave if you must…stay if you will. Farewell." The priest muttered, closing his book and nodding to Kyrian.

And just like that, the funeral was over. If not for the ceremony, there would be know way of knowing her beloved's body was even there except for the gold plaque engraved with his name in Dwarven.

Kyrian wished all she had said were true…that his soul was now free. But this was not the case, as she stepped up to the grave and placed her hand against the plaque.

"I am so sorry…If I had been faster…better. I could've saved you. Please forgive me…I love you." She spoke to none but herself. The blade at her side hummed slightly before going silent. Synithalon let out a deep breath, touching the woman's shoulder.

"C'mon. It's only so long that we can stay here. We have much to do."

Kyrian peered at the grave for a second longer, before turning on her heel and following Synithalon towards their wyverns. She strode proudly out of the city, her heart spurred by a new resolve: To find her beloved's son, and to have Fireshade's head roasted on a spit…


	3. Kyrian Dark Reunion

Dark Reunion-Descent Into Madness

A cold breeze blew through the woods of ruins of Capital City. Echoing moans escaped from the many still mindless undead, endlessly wandering the ravaged streets above the Undercity. Kyrian sat on a broken chunk of gray stone, flicking away bits of rock that had chipped off from age and neglect. Her eyes darted to her left as a zombie shambled its way into the open air, sort of grumbling at her. She cocked her head at it.

"Is that you…Ceige? Or…?" The zombie's face contorted into the shape of an elf's. An elf she knew well, and her eyes flared in rage. She charged the mindless creature, embedding her blade into its skull. She stabbed it repeatedly, laughing as the old blood and flesh spattered her face. "Die Die Die!" she shrieked, the visage of Fireshade burning through her mind as she attacked the dead body.

Then…as soon as it appeared, his face vanished, revealing the crushed, pussy skull of the zombie. She jumped away from it. "Oho…playing hide and seek are we? Heheh…" She hissed, glancing behind her as she heard heavy plate footsteps.

( )

Synithalon shifted in her saddle as the Zeppelin to Tirisfal Glades slowly came into dock. She glanced at the hooded Death Knight beside her. He had remained completely silent throughout the entire ride, as if Synithalon, and the world around him simply did not exist. As if feeling her eyes on him, he met her gaze.

"I am only here, because you are my Superior and you asked it of me." He spoke lowly. Synithalon shook her head, turning her Deathcharger to the side and walking off the zeppelin and down the Tower.

"Do you truly not remember her? Or is it that you fear to see her, after so long?"

The hooded Death Knight grit his teeth.

"It is because I remember her, that I fear our meeting. She found a way to be happy without me, seeing me like this could –only- cause her harm!" he growled.

Synithalon turned her charger in front of his so he stopped.

"And he has been taken from her! She needs someone who can help her, someone who cares!"

"Then why not you? You care for her deeply, or you wouldn't have brought me here."

Synithalon's eyes softened, and her shoulders slouched. "Her mind is only focused on the kill, I cannot help her. She doesn't know me like she knows you. The desire for revenge and blood will consume her! Thassarian…she needs you."

Her eyes were pleading, as she faced her Deathcharger away so Thassarian could pass into the ruins. Thassarian peered at her, remaining where he was. Synithalon's eyes narrowed, sitting up straight, her voice gaining a commanding air to it.

"Consider it an –order-." She stated clearly, leaning her head towards the entrance. Thassarian let out a resonating sigh, and pulled on his reins, slowly leading his charger into the desecrated city.

( )

It did not take him long to find what he was looking for. There were many zombies about, all with their skulls crushed in, or bodies hewn and slashed.

"Damn…seems to me the lust for blood has already consumed her.." he muttered to himself, pulling his blade out of caution. He caught the scent of a recently killed undead, and turned towards it. Again, the head was nearly crushed to bits, the jaw off set and hanging loose. His charger walked over it, neighing with unease. He rounded one last corner, and there she was. She was fumbling with a diamond, set into a white gold ring.

'Must've been from him…" he silently thought. He dismounted with complete silence, and strode up to her. It was only till he was a mere few feet from her that he chose to put all his weight into one step, letting his presence be known.

She turned her head towards him, making a hissing noise. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Oooh…my mind is truly cruel to me. Thassarian is that you?" she asked, her voice seeming far away…like it wasn't quite her. He allowed her to step closer, and she reached out, her hand touching the cold surface of his breastplate. She leaned in, sniffing, an uneasy grin stuck on her face. She giggled, "Oh dear, no, this can't be you."

Thassarian could read the insanity in her eyes. It wasn't anything permanent, but she definitely wasn't coping with her loss very well. He met her gaze, unable to smile.

"It's me, truly." He whispered. Her eyes met his, and she grit her teeth, shoving him away harshly.

"NO! It isn't, you're just an imposter!" She cocked her head at him, like some deranged Forsaken. "Or are you? Maybe you are real." Before he could recover from the shove, she jumped in her, pulling her dagger.

"If you are the real Thassarian, WHY did you leave me? I could've helped. I was a good fighter…very good! And you abandoned me!" Her eyes flooded with tears, and yet she still grinned like a deranged Imp. "I should kill you for what you did to me…"

She raised her dagger. "In fact…haha..I think I will!"

"Kyri, no!" a female voice shouted from behind her.

A shadowy ribbon of energy wrapped itself around her torso, and pulled her away before her strike could land. She flew back, as Synithalon threw her into a wall. The stone groaned at the strain of the impact, some areas cracking and falling away. The Death Knight Commander stood protectively in front of Thassarian as he recovered. Kyrian cackled, lunging for her.

The two traded blows, until Synithalon was able to knock her sword away, slamming her mace into the side of Kyrian's head. The woman toppled to the side, landing ass over tea kettle on the hard stone ground. She shakily got up, her face disfigured where the mace had literally cracked her skull.

( )

Kyrian could see nothing but white for a good few seconds, her head erupting in fiery pain every time she blinked. Warm blood dripped down her face, and she could feel where the mace had split her skull. She forced herself up, her body shaking. The two Death Knights glanced at her with worry, before both their faces morphed into Fireshade's, that perfect, sadistic grin on his face. For once she did not want to attack, and she ran, dashing through the alley ways and broken walls of Capital City. She could hear them behind her, shouting her name. But why? Why were there so many voices!

As she continued to run, the amethyst gem around her neck began to glow. A memory flashed across her eyes, Thassarian teaching her to fight with a sword. She skidded to a stop, as another image lashed through her mind. She saw Vivien..and Leryssa. The golden forests of Stratholme as autumn descended. She grit her teeth as their first meeting shot across her mind, such a joyous, surprising moment. Twas the first time she had really been shown any real respect in her life. She closed her eyes, clutching her head as the terrible night of Kyrptess's betrayal sparked through her eyes, and how he had gently held her through the terrifying night.

She fell to her knees, tears flooding her pale cheeks. The urge to kill was far away, as she sobbed, her hold on her dagger faltering. The glow from her amulet slowly ebbed away, and she could hear the heavy footsteps and hollow breathing of the death knights.

( )

Thassarian slowed himself, as he came upon a dark archway. There was an eerie purple glow at the end of the alley way, before it vanished, and he could hear Kyrian weeping. The only sound in the world he truly hated hearing. He strode up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He squeezed her shoulder gently, trying to ease away her hitching breaths.

She wiped away a tear, peering up at him.

"Thass…i-is it really you..?" she pleaded, her voice weak. He helped her to stand, nodding at her and smiling.

"It is..Kyri."

Despite the change in his eyes and voice, he was exactly the same. She reached a hand up to touch his face.

"That look…I've always known it." She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, and burying her face into the crook of his neck. "Gods, Thassarian I have missed you…"

He rubbed her shoulders gently, eyeing her head, grimacing at the blood beginning to cake in her hair. "I've missed you too." He dared to kiss her forehead, before leaning away.

"C'mon…we need to get you to a healer."

Kyrian nodded slightly, wiping a tear away. "Alright."

Synithalon watched from afar, holding her deathcharger's reigns.

"At least now…she'll be safe from herself." She muttered to herself, swinging into the saddle, and charging off towards the Undercity.

_Today's Inspirational Music…_

_New Fish by Thomas Newman!_


	4. Synithalon Farewell My Prince

**Lost**

**Theme: Aniron-Enya**

Synithalon stood before the entrance of Arthas's tomb, staring at the heavy wooden door. The door itself was beautiful, made of polished redwood, and bordered with gold plating, inlaid with sapphire and diamonds. Even only a week after the Prince's burial, various bandits had already come and pried a few of the precious gems from the door. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, tickling Syn's face, forcing memories of better times upon her.

She remembered a warm Summer day, in Capital City. The sky was clear, except for a few sparse clouds, that swayed in varying patterns. She sat upon the edge of her windowsill, listening to the daybirds sing beautiful hymns of peace. The Orcs had been pushed back for the time being, and for now…there was calm. She breathed in, closing her eyes in delight at the smell of blooming Kingsblood and Mageroyal. She jumped as three loud knocks echoed through her room, and she looked toward her door.

"Priestess Synithalon, may I come in?" the voice of Prince Arthas Menethil spoke through the door. She jumped off the window, fixing her robes, and trying to smooth out frizzes in her hair that weren't actually there.

"Y-yes! Come in, please." She called, standing in the middle of her room with her hands folded in front of her. He entered with a kind smile on his face, his sea green eyes seeming to glow in the slight dim of her room. The Prince was dressed in a royal blue doublet, and black leather pants. His golden hair was groomed neatly, and cascaded over his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a young God.

"I apologize if I'm intruding." He said, bowing his head to her.

She smiled, shaking her head. "It is fine, Prince Arthas. You are not intruding. I-" she began.

He smiled with kind apprehension, interrupting her. "Ah, good! Then I propose to you this. The day is still young, and neither of us have any duties with which to conduct. So, would you mind going riding with me?" he asked, his smile confident, but his eyes nervous.

Synithalon blushed, a smile sneaking onto her face. "I…Of course. It would be an honor." She chuckled nervously, brushing stray bangs behind her ear.

He nodded, holding his hand out to her. "The honor is mine."

As she reached her hand out to take his, the memory disappeared, and she found her hand gripping one of the handles to the tomb. She shut her eyes tight, gritting her teeth. With a firm push of her arm, and a deep breath, she stepped within the tomb. She shut the heavy wooden doors behind her, setting her eyes on the slate gray stone that encased his body. To the left, slung Arthas's hammer, Light's Justice, and to the right, his Royal armor. Openings in the tombs walls allowed light from outside to shine down upon the beautiful pieces. Her silver eyes glowed brightly in the darkness, as she came to stand by the tomb, placing a hand on the cold stone and closing her eyes.

"Greetings…old friend. I came to say goodbye…for I have witnessed your death twice, and never got the chance. I-I'm sorry…" she whispered, finding it hard to speak without a lump jumping up her throat. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself. As the silence persisted, she opened her eyes slowly.

The Light within the tomb nearly disappeared as a cloud moved to mask to moon outside, and as darkness filled the space within, she felt as empty as the tomb was.

"You were still there…that whole time…" she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned. Behind her, there was nothing. She furrowed her eyebrows, and moved to leave, but something jingled as she stepped forward.

Moonlight shined through the tomb once more, revealing a sight Synithalon never thought she would see again. A small bracelet laid near her boot, made of little white seashells and blue gemstones. Her breath caught in her throat, as she leaned down to pick it up. The very bracelet he had given her so long ago…

"H-How?" she half-whimpered, pulling the bracelet close to her heart. She could no longer hold back the tears, beginning to weep.

Her back tingled, and a sudden warmth enveloped her.

"Please don't cry…" a voice said, and for a moment she felt as if she were being hugged. She looked up, a tear rolling down her cheek.

There was a boy standing about a foot from the tomb's door. He was dressed in a blue tunic, and had soft golden hair. His sea green eyes smiled at her, before the apparation vanished with the sound of childish laughter.

She shuddered, her mouth hung open for a moment.

"A-Arthas…" she breathed.

She felt a slight warmth touch her cheek, before all sensation vanished, and she was left to the cool air of the tomb. She wiped a tear from her face, standing and clutching the bracelet tightly. She looked back at the tomb, smiling slightly.

"I will remember you…always." She spoke, before turning on her heel and exiting the tomb. She close the heavy doors behind her, sealing it shut and stepping back. "Farewell…" she whispered, before turning to her Skeletal Gryphon.

With an ear-piercing shriek, the beast took off, and as Synithalon looked down at the tomb from above, she thought she could see the slightest glimmer of Light, the face of her beloved Prince flashing through her mind…


End file.
